


Love's First Blush

by Luthienberen



Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: Dancing, Developing Relationship, Epistolary, F/F, Falling In Love, Friendship, Kissing, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-23 04:40:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23005888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthienberen/pseuds/Luthienberen
Summary: Honoria writes to a dear friend concerning a recent acquaintance she has made at a certain discreet club for women of a particular taste.
Relationships: Honoria Glossop/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15





	Love's First Blush

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in response to the February prompt at [give_satisfaction](https://give-satisfaction.dreamwidth.org/profile) community on dreamwidth, **"Love"**. Late, but hopefully it is a case of better late than never. :)
> 
> I tried a different format here, by experimenting with an epistolary style. Honoria gives voice to her sentiments through a letter to a friend – I had fun peeking into Honoria’s head, but I am still learning her voice! :=)

* * *

**_~ Letter to a Lady called 'Daisy', hand-delivered~_ **

My dearest Daisy,

I trust you are well and that your children are not being too tiresome. How is the wonderful city of Florence? I should imagine it ought to be terrifically hot in the summer? I say, what sports do they favour?

As for my own account I have some corking news to impart. After that debacle with B. I pulled up my socks, gave myself a thorough tongue lashing and decided it was high time to follow my preference at long last.

So, a week ago I elected to visit a certain establishment which caters to women of particular tastes. You will understand, of course, the necessity of not giving any specifics won’t you Daisy? 

At any rate, this place is a discreet club on --- Street. A pretty enough club I suppose if one has a fancy for colour. Fortunately, I knew a friend who assisted in gaining entrance for me, otherwise it would have been nigh on impossible. Due to the coppers, old girl, they sadly have to be dreadfully careful.

Nevertheless, I dressed smartly: crisp clean shirt, my favourite wide-legged trousers, slicked back hair and fedora hat tipped at a rakish angle and my shoes practical as always: low-heeled flats shined up like a billiard ball. 

The club was in full swing with a jazzy number B. would play with great enthusiasm while his faithful J. sighed yet smiled like a love struck fool. Now, don't scowl at me Daisy - for I know you are - but I assure you, I do not say that with bitterness. I am happy for them both and feel as if I missed a close call! 

You shall also laugh, for I accuse J. of being above struck fool, but when I saw _her_ and then _spoke_ to her I was quite besotted. A week has passed and it is safe to say that I am in love...I do not think foolishly either, yet that remains to be seen.

Who is "her" I hear you murmur around your elegant silver tipped cigarette holder? 

The woman in question is a dashing lady.

In the night in question, as she waited for her turn at the bar, her gaze was alight with curiosity as she surveyed the crowd. A faint smile played on her lips at whatever her eyes picked out.

Quite slim, with a flamboyant style of dress: a long dress, made of silk, (as I discovered later) draped her slight form. Unlike the majority of the clientele she had not forsworn her wrap , as if she was cold. The dress simmered in a multitude concoction of colour and reached just above her ankles where I sighted practical low-heeled shoes, but of a deep red unlike my no nonsense black ones.

Her dark hair was a flowing tumble to above her shoulders, not the short cuts that are so in fashion today and which I do favour. The long tresses were held back by a sparkling red headband. Pearl earrings dangled and sparkled while a silver bracelet with colourful gems I didn't recognise adorned her gloved left wrist. The precious stones and silver were vivid against the crimson material.

Suffice to say, my Lady is a lover of the colour red, though perhaps not quite the skilled tactician in collating together a matching outfit. Is it worrisome, that in that respect, I resemble J. loving someone with minimal ability to compile a sensibly co-ordinated outfit? Though if that is the only trouble anyone suffers in a relationship how well blessed is that individual!

Back to the lady for I know you are impatient for further information!

Almost incongruously a large black shoulder bag was looped over neck and right shoulder with the weight resting on her left hip.

I drifted closer for she did not have a drink yet and was clearly waiting for an opportunity to reach the counter amid the bustle. Hazel eyes locked on mine and they gleamed with intelligence. Her flushed complexion was pale underneath and I read a lifetime of illness from the slight traces of pain and fatigue at the corners of her eyes, and in the awkward manner she favoured her right leg.

Her scent was that popular floral fragrance undercut by the tang of carbolic. Furthermore, the fingertips on her left hand were stained ever so slightly as if by iodine. Her black bag had that familiar shapely bulge of a stethoscope (a familiarity borne from a childhood of too many various disciplines of doctor busting through our doors to visit with my father). 

A medical doctor I guessed and, as I later discovered, correctly! Shall I call myself the female Sherlock Holmes?

My interest was piqued so in my usual forthright manner I sailed into conversation.

_"May I introduce myself? The name is Honoria. This is my first time in ---."_

My lady laughed, one full of humour but edged with weariness. Luckily, her next words dispelled my fear that I was the cause of her exhaustion.

_"You are not forward at all Honoria. My name is --- and this is my third visit here."_

Forgive me for not penning my Lady's name, but for now I treasure her and wish to hold her secret for a little longer. Suffice to say it is quite beautiful and along with her accent - again I must block any curiosity here, as I would on the lacrosse field, and draw a veil over the origins of my Lady's accent.

_"Then may I be even bolder and enquire if you are visiting this club alone?"_

_My Lady smiled and despite her sudden nervousness answered honestly, "My friends dance away while I fetch drinks."_

I was insulted on her behalf and insisted I buy drinks. In my rather overbearing manner I forged our way to the bar, purchased drinks and ensconced us in a comfortable little table.

Oh! Fortune favours the bold is the saying, though who coined the idiom I do not know. Nevertheless, it was true in this case, because for once my direct approach paid off, and by stops and starts we chatted until we conversed like a couple who had known each other half our lives.

The evening was gone to soon, ending too quickly, even as my blood sang. I felt as if I had been running about the lacrosse field with the game ending before I could truly dispel all my vigour.

Fortunately, my new companion was eager to meet with me again and since that evening we have seen each other each night this past week. I was in town visiting “friends” (as my father and mother believed), while my Lady had a rare bout of freedom in the evenings following long mornings in surgery.

Just tonight I drew my companion to the floor for I could see the yearning in her eyes to dance despite her limp. So I brooked no argument and with a startled yelp from my doctor I lifted her so that her feet rested on mine. Then we swayed while jazz blared, because I'm not a fainting filly who needs to match the tune played on an instrument of wood or metal; no, instead I listen to the tune my heart taps out.

My Lady doctor laughed so happily and her bright eyes sparkled in the lights of the club. Her surgeon skilled fingers metered out a tune on my shoulders and back.

_"Your collarbone is so strong," she confessed, fingers tapping out our tune._

Next she spread her left hand over my shoulder, small yet relatively strong from her work. My Lady doctor gripped tightly while her right arm wrapped around my back. Her fingers stroked, admiring my muscles.

 _"What lovely muscles you have_ ," she teased.

I chuckled at my doctor's appreciation, flushing with pleasure.

To my delight, as I spun us about, my Lady bestowed a chaste kiss on the side of my throat when she pressed her face into the side of my neck. A warm fuzzy sensation rolled through me and I was vividly aware of her weight and heat in my arms.

Ah! I recall it now as my pen scratches away this missive to you, dearest Daisy. 

I can feel the shift of fabric, for the thin silk of her frilly blouse and the cotton of her trousers allowed her slight frame to press deliciously close against mine. I savoured how our bodies moved together – the delicious press and slide of flesh warmed by our activities and the heat in the club, the flare of desire when her bare fingers touched the nape of my neck or when my mouth wandered and touched the exposed flesh at the hollow of her throat, grateful that for once my Lady had discarded her scarf and left it at our table.

Her shudder and gasp of pleasure were fuel to the burning in my blood and the song in my heart.

Even so, her feet on mine were grounding, helping to snatch me back from flights of fancy that were perilously close to the stars. 

At last my Lady delivered shy kisses up my throat until she reached my mouth. There was the sweet press and slide of lips on my own. Heat and tenderness in that gentle mouth, yet full of worldly insights and decidedly frank opinions. I kissed her back just as sweetly and whispered the nonsense of lovers.

Her sigh of happiness was the answer to my own.

After such a declaration on the dance floor and a week of conversation and excursions about the city – interspersed with stops mindful of her health: tea rooms or a picnics in the park where we watched any old sport, or I did at least, while she smiled at my enthusiasm and chatted about the latest gruesome operation, (doctors are all the same and never change, no matter their gender or inclination, Daisy) – we could hardly fail to become girlfriends.

As I write my mind considers how we shall arrange to meet regularly and communicate whilst remaining safe. My Lady doctor also is applying her considerable intelligence to the subject and I dare say we shall soon have a feasible and reasonable strategy in place.

Wish me happiness and fortune Daisy, for I think that my Lady Doctor is the one for me.

Wish me the happiness of J. & B. and I shall be full glad.

As ever, I send my love to your own lady love and of course to J. the bearer of this missive. Tell him good luck for who knows what trouble awaits J. with his B. in the splendour of Florence?

Yours,

Honoria

**Author's Note:**

> ♣ **History of Lacrosse, invented by Native Americans:** https://worldlacrosse.sport/worldlacrosse/origin-history/
> 
> (For women's scroll down, but both the history of lacrosse in relation to men and women is fascinating. Also no, not the sport for me!)
> 
> ♣ **Women's fashion 1930s:**  
>  https://vintagedancer.com/1930s/women-1930s-fashion/
> 
> https://vintagedancer.com/1930s/womens-1930s-hat-styles/ 
> 
> http://weheartvintage.co/2014/01/24/vintage-perfumes-the-fragrances-that-defined-each-decade/
> 
> ♣ **Carbolic soap and acid played** a major part in medicine as a form of disinfectant (part of the antisepsis system developed by Joseph Lister, from which was derived the antiseptic system) from the Victorian era well into the Second World War:
> 
> https://www.lifebuoy.in/lifebuoy/a-history-of-health.html
> 
> https://www.sciencemuseum.org.uk/objects-and-stories/listers-antisepsis-system


End file.
